


Long Road Home

by lanalucy



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Child Neglect, Community: hc_bingo, Community: wishlist_fic, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary</b>: A day in the life.<br/><b>Prompt/Prompter</b>: “I'm a woman. That means I break hard. And mend like a motherfucker; all sexy and full of heartbreakingly beautiful scars.” ― Staceyann Chin (I'm thinking a meditation of some sort on her childhood, but I'd be happy with wherever the quote takes you.) <b>walbergr</b><br/><b>Warnings</b>: canon-like references to child abuse/neglect<br/><b>Disclaimer</b>: RDM said we could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Road Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to newnumbertwo and laura_mayfair for being in my beta village. I couldn't do it without them. Well, I could, but it would suck.
> 
> Also written for hc_bingo square 16: lost childhood

“Tired of walking?”

Twelve-year-old Kara Thrace looked through the window of the truck pulled to a stop next to her. He was in uniform. She debated for all of the three seconds it took her to catalog his appearance. Clean. Regulation haircut. Sergeant. BDUs. No ring. “Yes.”

She got in, putting her backpack on the floor in front of her. “Thank you for stopping.”

“No problem. Hate to see a pretty girl walking down the road by herself. I’m Ben, by the way.”

He held his hand out, and Kara shook it, then huddled back against the door. “Kara.”

“Where am I taking you, Kara?”

She watched him put the truck in drive and pull back into traffic. “Base housing. North side. School Road.”

Kara was lost in her thoughts, reviling the teacher who’d intentionally kept her so long after school she’d missed the last bus, and the mother who’d insisted she go to the school on the far side of the base instead of the one within walking distance of their duplex. Thankfully, Ben was quiet.

When they got a few blocks from her cul-de-sac, she said, “You can stop anywhere. This is close enough.”

“I can take you all the way home. It’s no problem.”

“No. It’s better if she doesn’t see -”

Ben shook his head. “Yeah. Better for both of us, probably.” He pulled to a stop at the next intersection.

“Thank you, sir.” She slid off the seat onto the pavement and reached in to haul her backpack over her shoulder, then slammed the door.

“Get home safe, Kara,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, then shook his head again and drove off.

She trudged the three blocks to her duplex, imagining a conversation with her mom ending with apologies and promises. She angrily rubbed away the tear that wasn’t in her eye and shoved the key in the door.

She closed and locked the door behind her, and threw the backpack down when she got to her room, then kicked it across the floor. She jumped at the voice behind her.

“You’re home earlier than I expected.”

Kara didn’t understand what her mother meant, so she kept her mouth shut. It was always the better option anyway.

“Saw you walking. Figured it’d take another hour at least.”

 _Frakking **bitch**_. Kara didn’t feel a trace of guilt for cursing in her head. Her mother deserved it.

“It’s your night to make dinner. I picked up something on the way home, so you only have to feed yourself.”

When her mother walked away, Kara’s shoulders drooped with a weird sort of relief. Whatever mood Socrata was in, she hadn’t hit her. She’d better get busy, though. Her mother wouldn’t accept a sandwich as dinner, even just for herself. She wondered what her mother had eaten. She wondered what Ben would have fed her if she’d asked him to stop. 

Maybe next time she should walk in the other direction. It couldn’t be any worse than this.


End file.
